l%e  Htbrarp 

of  tfje 

Mntim&itPQt  i^ortfi  Carolina 


anb 

^{jtlantijropic  H>odetteg 


This  BOOK  may  be  kept  out  TWO  WEEKS 
ONLY,  and  is  subject  to  a  fine  of  FIVE 
CENTS  a  day  thereafter.  It  was  taken  out 
on  the  day  indicated  below: 


THE    CLOUD 


THE    SILVER    LINING. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hi 


http://archive.org/details/cloudwithsilverlOOmack 


THE    CLOUD 


THE    SILVER    LINING 


BY    THE    AUTHOR 

V\ cum  the 

A    TRAP    TO    CATCH    A    SUNBEAM,"    "  ONLY,"    "  OLD    JOLLIEFE,"     AND 

"  SEQUEL,"   "  THE  DREAM  CHINTZ,"   ':_THE  HOUSE  ON  THE  ROCK," 

&C.    &C. 


BOSTON     AND     CAMBRIDGE: 

JAMES    MUNROE    AND    COMPANY 

1853. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1852,  by 

James  Munroe  and  Company, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts . 


CAMBRIDGE  : 
PRINTED  BY  JOHN  FORD  AND  COMPANY. 


Zf.J. 


J 


THE    CLOUD. 


"  Well,  Auntie,  and  what  then  ?  Go  on,  I 
love  to  hear  jour  stories  of  yourself,  and  when  I 
have  listened  to  all  your  suffering,  and  look  in 
your  face,  your  calm  face,  I  can  scarcely  believe 
it  all,  and  think  it  must  be  a  story  you  have 
made  out  of  your  own  head." 

"Auntie"  smiled  a  cold  quiet  smile,  and  an- 
swered in  a  voice  so  low,  that  the  rustling  of  the 
autumn  blast  outside  the  house  rendered  what 
she  said  almost  inaudible. 

"It  is  all  true,  Annie,  quite  true.  —  I  have 
little  more  to  add  now ;  my  last  grief  was  your 
uncle's  death  and   my  removal   from   my  long- 


"It  is  a  pretty  place,  Auntie." 


gloved  home  to  this  cottage." 


"  Yes,  Annie,  I  am  quite  contented.  Hark  ! 
is  that  Frank  ? " 

"  No,  that's  not  his  step,"  answered  the  young 
girl  with  emphasis, 

"It  is  getting  near  his  time,  though.  Tell 
Betsy  to  see  about  his  supper  if  you  please,  my 
dear." 

"Yes,  Auntie," — and  Annie  rose  from  her 
seat  and  left  the  room  to  fulfil  her  Aunt's  request. 

Irrespective  of  the  wide  difference  in  the  ages 
of  the  speakers,  the  contrast  between  them  was 
very  great— -Annie  Lindsay  wras  a  blue-eyed, 
fair-haired  girl,  with  a  round,  plump  figure,  a 
homely  happy  face,  and  a  rosebud  of  a  mouth 
about  which  sparkled  the  sauciest  little  dimples 
every  time  she  smiled  —  and  that  was  nearly 
always  —  for  Annie  had  no  sorrows  of  her  own, 
therefore,  unless  when  listening  to  the  wroes  of 
others,  the  dimples  kept  their  place  about  that 
pretty  mouth  ;  but  she  was  full  of  sympathy,  and 
when  she  did  hear  a  sad  story  the  dimples 
vanished,  and  large  pearly  drops  shone  in  her 
blue  eyes. 


THE  CLOUD.  / 

The  simplest  misfortune  was  by  her  exagger- 
ated into  great  sorrow,  for  she  had  never  known 
or  witnessed  grief,  and  as  she  listened  to  the  stories 
told  by  her  Aunt,  her  little  simple  heart  was 
filled  with  wonder  that  she  was  living  to  relate 
them,- — and  others,  older  and  more  experienced, 
wondered  too, —  not  so  much  that  she  was  living, 
but  at  the  calm  meek  face  with  but  few  wrinkles 
for  her  age,  and  the  low  tranquil  voice,  and  the 
clear  pale  blue  eye  which  nothing  could  fill  with 
tears.  Was  it  that  in  a  life  of  such  sorrow  they 
had  wept  the  fountain  dry  ?  It  might  be  so, — 
she  had  neither  friends  nor  relations  left  who 
could  testify  to  what  she  had  been.  She-  was  of 
marble  paleness,  tall  and  thin ;  the  perfect  reg- 
ularity of  her  features  telling  of  past  beauty. 
Over  her  high  white  forehead  the  silver  hair  was 
braided,  and  the  almost  Quaker-like  simplicity  of 
her  dress,  completed  the  striking  difference  be- 
tween herself  and  her  bright  and  joyous  com- 
panion ;  for  Annie,  it  must  be  confessed,  was 
something  of  a  coquette,  and  was  glad  when  an 
occasion   offered    itself    for   a   spice   of    cherry- 


O  THE  CLOUD. 

colored  ribbon,  which  was  always  disposed  with 
great  taste,  for  that  same  quality,  so  indispensable, 
in  a  woman  especially,  Annie  fully  possessed. 

Mrs.  Lindsay  had,  as  I  have  said,  outlived  all 
her  relatives,  at  least  those  of  her  own  age  ;  she 
had  no  one  now  belonging  to  her  but  her  niece 
Annie,  and  one  only  child,  a  son.  Annie's  father 
was  a  tradesman  in  the  great  city  of  London, — 
mother  she  had  none  ;  the  mother  had  given  her 
life  for  the  child,  and  Mr.  Lindsay,  a  stern  man 
of  business,  without  an  interest  beyond  the  rise 
and  fall  of  the  funds  or  a  treasure  so  great  as  his 
money,  gazed  at  the  helpless  wailing  infant,  and 
wondered  what  was  to  become  of  it ;  and  what 
would  have  become  of  it,  is  hard  to  say,  but  for  a 
woman,  who  having  made  a  young  imprudent 
marriage  with  an  Irish  sergeant  who  had  deserted 
her,  was  glad  to  be  hired  as  a  nurse,  and  who, 
with  the  greatest  devotion  and  zeal,  became  a 
second  mother  to  the  little  orphan,  and  when  it 
grew  older,  and  its  joyous  laughter  and  merry 
romps,  were  voted  a  nuisance  by  its  father,  she 
sought  out  this  widowed  Aunt,  and  by  her  prayers 


THE  CLOUD.  9 

and  entreaties  tried  to  win  her  to  consent  that 
Annie  should  come  and  live  with  her.  Her  elo- 
quence prevailed,  and  Mrs.  Lindsay  made  an 
arrangement  with  her  brother  in-law  to  take  the 
little  Annie  and  her  nurse,  whose  husband  having 
left  her,  and  death  robbed  her  of  her  child,  had 
no  tie  in  the  world  save  the  love  she  felt  for  Annie. 
Seventeen  years  had  passed  since  then,  and  Mr. 
Lindsay  had  almost  forgotten  that  he  had  a  daugh- 
ter, and  Annie  that  she  had  a  father.  And  an 
uninterrupted  course  of  peaceful  secluded  hap- 
piness had  been  hers  beneath  the  roof  of  her 
Aunt's  pretty  home,  they  paid  no  visits,  made 
few  acquaintances,  for  the  reverses  of  fortune 
Mrs.  Lindsay  had  experienced  rendered  her 
averse  to  gaiety,  and  made  her  prefer  the  quiet 
and  privacy  of  her  own  little  cottage. 

It  stood  on  the  edge  of  a  common  near  a  little 
village  in  the  south  of  England.  A  few  white 
cottages  were  dotted  about,  which  preserved  it 
from  loneliness,  and  yet  did  not  interfere  with 
its  peaceful  retirement.  Mrs.  Lindsay's  was  the 
largest  and  best,  the  others  were  occupied  chiefly 


10  THE  CLOUD. 

by  laboring  men  and  their  families,  —  and  one 
belonging  to  the  blacksmith  had  a  shed  built 
beside  it,  from  beneath  which  the  forge  sent  out  a 
cheerful  glow  of  light,  pleasant  to  see  in  the  gloom 
of  these  autumn  evenings.  Almost  always,  too, 
a  group  of  idlers  stood  about  it,  to  gossip  on  all 
that  concerned  themselves  and  their  neighbors. 
A  few  sturdy  little  ponies  grazed  amongst  the 
furze  and  heather,  and  here  and  there  a  donkey 
with  his  long  ears  erect  stared  at  the  ponies,  who 
turned  from  him  with  a  toss  of  the  head,  as  though 
in  contempt  of  so  bad  an  imitation  of  themselves. 
Opposite  to  the  road  which  led  to  the  village  was 
another  between  high  banks  covered  with  wild 
flowers,  which  brought  the  traveller  suddenly  on 
to  the  wild  sea-beach,  a  long  line  of  coast  without 
a  house  in  sight  save  a  small  preventive  station ; 
and  to  ramble  on  this  beach,  with  her  dear  "  old 
nurse,"  whom  she  loved  as  a  mother,  was  one  of 
Annie's  chief  delights,  her  aunt  seldom  or  never 
going  out,  save  to  church. 

But  all  this  time  we  are  leaving  Annie  in  the 
kitchen,  not  that  she  is  in  a  hurry  to  leave  it,  for 


THE  CLOUD.  11 

no  sooner  does  her  bright  face  peep  in  at  the  door, 
than  Grace  makes  a  rush  at  her  "  darling,"  and 
has  so  much  to  say,  that  she  is  usually  detained 
three  times  as  long  as  is  necessary  for  the  fulfil- 
ment of  her  mission.  While  the  supper  was  being 
prepared,  therefore,  Grace  drew  a  chair  near  the 
wood  fire  for  Annie,  and  settled  herself  for  a  chat. 

"  Mr.  Frank's  later  than  usual  it  seems  to  me, 
our  clock-has  struck  seven  some  time." 

"  Well,  I  was  just  thinking  he  was,  Grace," 
said  Annie,  anxiously  rising  from  her  seat  and 
gazing  out  into  the  fast  waning  light.  "  Make 
haste  with  the  supper,  Betsy,  and  take  the  can- 
dles into  the  parlor ;  he  likes  it  to  be  ready  when 
he  comes  in,"  she  continued,  turning  to  Grace. 

"  True,  dear,  it  tells  him  how  much  he's  thought 
of  and  cared  for." 

Annie  sighed  slightly,  as  she  answered,  — 

"  Yes,  Auntie  loves  him  very  dearly.  Poor 
Auntie  !  how  much  she  has  suffered,  Grace !  and 
borne  it  all  so  well." 

"  Ah !  Miss  Annie,  she  has  found  the  '  Silver 


12  THE  CLOUD. 

Lining'  to  the  clouds,  that  I've  so  often  told 
you  of." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  what  that  means,  Grace !" 
said  Annie,  smiling. 

"It's  a  saying  in  Ireland,  dear,  and  I  can't 
tell  you  what  it  means  more  than  that  there  is  no 
trouble  so  bad,  but  that  it  has  a  bright  side.  Did 
you  never  see  a  black  cloud  in  the  sky,  darling, 
with  an  edge  like  silver  all  round.  Perhaps  it's 
from  that  the  saying  comes." 

As  Grace  concluded  her  sentence,  Annie  heard 
some  one  outside  calling  in  a  strange  wild  voice, 

"  Ma'am,  Ma'am." 

"  That's  poor  Ruth,  Grace,  let  her  in,  it's  so 
cold  and  windy  to-night." 

Grace  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said  in  a 
lower  tone, 

"  I  don't  much  like  that  woman,  hadn't  we 
better  give  her  some  money,  and  send  her  on  ; 
dear,  how  the  wind  howls." 

"  Ma'am,  Ma'am,"  again  the  voice  called. 

"  Nonsense,    Grace,    said    Annie,    laughing, 


THE  CLOUD.  13 

"  why  you  seem  quite  nervous  to-night ;  let  the 
poor  creature  in,  think  how  cold  she  must  be  in 
those  few  rags  which  barely  cover  her. 

Grace  shook  her  head  ominously,  but  proceeded 
to  open  the  kitchen  door  according  to  the  young 
lady's  orders.  Crouched  in  a  corner  close  to  the 
step  was  a  woman  some  eighty  or  ninety  years 
old,  with  seemingly  no  covering  but  a  torn  and 
ragged  gown  —  she  was  very  small,  almost  child- 
like in  size  —  over  her  brown  and  withered  face 
hung  straggling  locks  of  thin  white  hair,  a  dirty 
lace  cap  covered  her  head,  and  in  her  bony  hands 
she  held  a  long  staff.  When  the  door  was  opened 
she  sprung  from  her  recumbent  position,  and  ex- 
claimed, in  her  wild  thin  voice, 

"  Ah !  Ma'am,  lend  Ruth  a  halfpenny,  I'll  pay 
you  again  next  week,  —  yes,  yes,  pay  you  again." 

"  Come  in,  Ruth,"  said  Annie,  kindly,  come 
in  near  the  fire,  you  must  be  cold." 

"  Yes,  but  promise  to  lend  it  me  first." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  promise,"  said  Annie,  smiling, 
u  would  you  like  some  supper  ?  " 

a  Oh,  yes  ;  that  I  would  —  so  hungry  —  had 
2 


14  THE  CLOUD. 

a  nice  dinner  yesterday,  —  nice  saveloy  —  a  kind 
lady  gave  me,  —  don't  know  who  she  was  —  very 
kind  —  everybody's  kind  to  Ruth.  How's  my 
sweetheart?  bless  him!"  she  continued,  turning 
sharply  to  Grace,  who  somewhat  ungraciously 
was  offering  her  the  supper.  The  poor  creature 
seized  it,  and  began  eating  it  eagerly,  again 
asking  "  how  her  sweetheart  was." 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Annie,  laughing,  "  he's  quite 
well,  we  expect  him  in  every  moment,  you'll  see 
him  before  you  go." 

"  Ah !  he's  nice,  so  handsome.  Ruth's  sweet- 
hearts always  were.  Is  he  going  to  be  married  ? 
Are  you  going  to  have  him  ?  I  won't  be  jealous 
of  you.     I'll  love  you  because  he  does." 

A  blush  of  the  brightest  crimson  mantled,  over 
Annie's  neck  and  face,  she  turned  away  to  the 
window,  and  after  a  pause,  wishing  the  poor 
maniac  good  bye,  and  desiring  Grace  to  give  her 
sixpence,  she  returned  to  the  parlor. 

Her  Aunt  was  standing  at  the  window  watching 
for  her  son.  The  wind  blew  roughly  over  the 
common  in  heavy   gusts ;    the   clouds   scudded 


THE  CLOUD.  15 

rapidly  over  the  sky,  as  though  bent  on  some  dis- 
tant mission  they  must  fulfil  ere  nightfall. 

The  gossips  round  the  forge  fire  were  fast  dis- 
persing, parties  of  ducks  and  processions  of  geese 
were  waddling  home,  tumbling  over  now  and 
then  with  the  violence  of  the  wind  —  far  behind 
them  a  little  boy  in  a  smock  frock,  who  had  been 
sent  to  drive  them  in,  loitered  to  chat  with  another 
boy  or  to  throw  stones  at  the  donkeys ;  and  trot- 
ting on  some  fat  poney,  with  a  large  basket  on 
her  arm,  came  by  a  woman  from  market,  her 
head  bent  against  the  strong  wind,  and  her  large 
red  cloak  inflated  like  a  balloon  behind  her. 
Soon  all  these  had  passed,  and  no  signs  of  life 
remained  upon  the  common,  but  the  ponies  and 
donkeys  standing  with  their  tails  to  the  wind,  and 
the  light  of  fires  gleaming  out  of  the  cottage  win- 
dows. The  moon  was  rising,  but  across  her  bright 
face  dark  angry  clouds  were  passing,  and  at 
length  one  heavier  than  the  other  obscured  it 
altogether,  save  that  the  rays  turned  its  edges  to 
silver. 

Annie  had  crept  to  her  Aunt's  side  and  watch- 


16  THE  CLOUD. 

ed  with  her,  but  neither  of  them  spoke,  and  the 
son  came  not.     At  length  Mrs.  Lindsay  said, 

"  Frank  is  very  late." 

"  Yes,  what  can  make  him  so,  Auntie  ?" 

"It  is  Saturday  night,  and  the  men  have  to 
be  paid." 

Annie  thought  there  had  been  many  Saturday 
nights,  but  yet  Frank  had  been  home  much  earlier. 
It  grew  darker  and  darker — they  were  both  so 
anxious  that  they  could  not  talk  —  the  fire,  for 
the  evenings  were  cold  enough  to  make  a  small 
fire  pleasant,  threw  a  glare  over  the  room  —  it 
was  too  low  to  have  a  flame,  —  making  the  shadow 
of  the  furniture  take  fantastic  shapes.  Annie 
shivered,  and  moving  from  the  window  stirred  the 
fire  and  put  on  a  fresh  log.  It  blazed  up  cheerily 
then. 

"  Frank  can  see  that  all  across  the  common,  I 
should  think,  Auntie  ! " 

"  I  hope  so,  love." 

Annie  sat  down  beside  the  fire  —  but  she  did 
not  gaze  at  it  as  she  was  wont  to  do,  imagining 
fairies  and  caverns  and  quaint  figures  of  men  and 


THE  CLOUD.  17 

animals  amongst  the  coals.  No,  her  gaze  was 
rivetted  on  the  heavy  clouds,  which  still  hung 
bodingly  in  the  sky,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  now 
she  was  to  know  the  meaning  of  Grace's  proverb, 
—  that  a  cloud  was  to  rest  upon  her  hitherto 
bright  life,  —  that  the  trouble  was  coming. 

Motionless  and  silent  .Mrs.  Lindsay  kept  her 
watch  at  the  window '  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of 
the  truant,  and  strangely  the  words  kept  ringing 
in  her  ears,  as  though  she  heard  them  spoken, 
"  he  was  the  only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she 
was  a  widow."  Everything  was  so  still  out  of 
doors  and  so  silent,  that  a  sudden  wild  laugh  from 
Ruth  startled  them  both. 

"  It's  only  Ruth,  Auntie,  she's  been  having 
some  supper." 

"  Oh  !  poor- Ruth,  she  has  not  been  here  for 
a  long  while,"  and  Mrs.  Lindsay  sighed,  and 
turning  away  from  the  window  sat  down  by 
Annie. 

Hark  !  a  firm  quick  step,  a  manly  voice  speak- 
ing at  the  back  door.  Thank  Heaven  her  son  at 
last  —  none  but  that  Heaven  knew  the  anxiety 

9* 


18  THE  CLOUD. 

she  had  felt  for  his  absence  ;  a  slight,  very  slight 
tinge  of  color  underneath  the  eye  had  been  its 
only  outward  sign,  and  all  she  showed  of  gladness 
was  a  little  convulsive  pressure  of  the  fingers,  and 
a  calm  happy  smile  as  she  said, 
"  Here  he  is." 

Not  so  Annie  ;  pale  as  death  she  had  watched 
from  that  window,  with  a  choking  sensation  in  her 
throat  which  was  only  prevented  from  being  a 
burst  of  tears  by  fear  of  alarming  her  Aunt,  but 
now  with  a  joyous  cry  she  flew  out  of  her  seat 
and  into  the  kitchen  to  welcome  him,  helping  him 
off  with  his  coat,  running  for  his  slippers,  and 
bringing  the  bootjack  instead,  running  back  again, 
talking  and  laughing  all  the  time,  forgetting  the 
hour  of  anxiety  —  forgetting  the  cloud  in  the  sky — 
mindful  of  but  one  bright  happy  fact,  that  he  was 
at  home  well  and  unhurt.  Annie  had  given  him 
no  time  to  speak,  but  when  he  could  get  in  a  word 
he  said, 

"  Has  my  Mother  been  very  anxious  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  she  has,  but  she  did  not  say  so." 

"  No,  she  would  be  sure  not  to  say  so,"  he 


THE  CLOUD.  19 

answered,  as  he  walked  into  the  parlor.  "  Well, 
Mother,  he  continued,  going  up  to  her  and  kissing 
her  tenderly,  as  he  always  did. 

"  My  boy —  I  am  glad  you  are  come,  are  you 
well?" 

A  Mother's  eye  noticed  at  one  glance  a  change 
in  her  child's  face,  —  a  weary  haggard  look  un- 
usual in  his  open  cheerful  countenance. 

"  Tired,  Mother,  that's  all  — I  shall  be  glad  of 
something  to  eat,  or  to  drink  rather,  I  am  very 
thirsty."  In  a  moment  a  foaming  glass  of  beer 
stood  beside  him.        t 

"  Thank  you,  Annie,  dear,"  he  said,  and  he  laid 
his  hand  on  hers  ;  it  was  very  hot  and  feverish. 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  very  well,  Master 
Frank,"  she  said,  laughing.  Yes,  laughing,  be- 
cause to  her  it  seemed  something  too  absurd  to  be 
anxious  or  fidgety  about  anything,  now  he  was  at 
home.  What  more  could  they  want.  Though  he 
had  said  he  wanted  something,  he  made  but  a  poor 
attempt  to  eat  the  supper  prepared  for  him,  and 
then  throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair,  was  silent 
for  some  time  ;  however,  that  little  Annie  talked 


20  THE  CLOUD. 

enough  for  two.  She  drew  a  low  chair  close  to 
him,  and  looking  up  in  his  face  with  her  sunny 
eyes,  chattered  away  to.  him  as  fast  as  she  could, 
till  at  length  he  stroked  back  her  fair  soft  hair, 
and  kissing  her  forehead,  said  kindly  : 

"  How  the  child  talks  to-night ;  but  rude  as  it 
seems,  I  must  to  bed,  for  I  am  tired  to  death." 

"  It's  not  nine  o'clock,  Frank,"  said  his  Mother. 

"  I  know,  Mother,  but  if  I'm  tired,  what  does 
it  signify  if  it  is  eight  o'clock  ?  " 

Something  must  be  wrong  —  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  he  has  spoken  impetuously  to  his 
Mother  —  his  idolized  mother  —  that  being,  whom 
he  loved  with  a  reverential  love,  that  made  him 
think  that  all  she  did  and  said,  and  thought,  was 
right.  He  lighted  a  candle  and  kissing  her  and 
his  little  cousin,  whom  he  always  fondled  and 
treated  as  though  she  were  the  little  child  he 
first  remembered  her,  y^ent  off  to  his  room.  In  a 
few  minutes  Annie  and  Mrs.  Lindsay  followed  his 
example  —  and  the  former,  her  heart  lighter  and 
happier  for  the  slight  shock  which  had  fallen  on 
it,  was  soon  slumbering   calmly,  smiling  in  her 


THE  CLOUD.  21 

sleep  and  dreaming  foolishly  happy  dreams,  too 
happy  to  be  realized  on  earth. 

Night  closed  over  the  common,  one  by  one  the 
lights  vanished  from  the  cottage  windows,  and 
"sleep  and  silence  keep  their  watch  o'er  men." 
Grace  has  been  to  look  at  and  kiss  and  bless  her 
darling,  as  she  had  done  for  seventeen  years,  and 
the  little  household  are  all  still  and  sleeping  save 
one. 

Frank  has  never  laid  down,  never  undressed, 
and  now  he  cautiously  opens  his  door  and  listens — 
no  sound  but  the  ticking  of  the  old  clock ;  he 
creeps  down  stairs,  unlocks  the  door,  and  putting 
the  key  in  his  pocket,  goes  out  into  the  night. 
He  pauses  for  a  moment,  looks  up  at  his  mother's 
room,  and  then  hurries  on. 

At  the  house  belonging  to  the  owner  of  the 
paper-mills  where  Frank  is  employed,  there  has 
been  a  small  party,  not  like  a  London  soiree,  but 
a  homely  country  merry-making,  befitting  the 
station  of  the  host  and  his  guests  ;  for  though  his 
trade  was  a  successful  and  lucrative  one,  James 
Havendon  had  no  pretension  about  him,  but  he 


22  THE  CLOUD. 

had  got  something  much  more  attractive  in  the 
shape  of  an  interesting  only  daughter,  and  had 
she  not  been  as  interesting  and  good  and  amiable 
as  she  really  was,  still  she  would  have  had  ad- 
mirers, as  the  only  child  of  a  man  reputed  rich. 
For  her  amusement  the  party  had  been  given, 
and  she  had  been  gliding  about  amongst  her  visit- 
ors with  a  gentleness  and  grace  far  above  her 
'  station,  but  these  were  innate  in  Jessie  Havendon ; 
nothing  could  have  made  her  other  than  the  pure, 
good,  innocent  hearted  girl  she  was. 

Jessie  had  had  a  good  mother,  —  a  mother  who 
had  shown  her  the  value  of  goodness  here  and  here- 
after, —  had  taught  her  that  there  was  a  talisman 
which  would  keep  her  good,  —  one  not  to  be  worn 
externally,  but  carried  in  the  heart,  making  every 
thought  and  action  subservient  to  it,  — an  in- 
fluence teaching  her  to  "  hope  all  things,  believe 
all  things,  endure  all  things,"— that  would  soothe 
her  in  sickness,  comfort  her  in  sorrow,  make  her 
temperate  in  joy,  and  Jessie  had  found  this.  Re- 
ligion—the purest  and  best,  was  the  ruling  prin- 
ciple of  her  life,  —  and  truly  had  it  taught  her  to 


THE  CLOUD.  23 

hope,  to  believe,  to  endure,  —  made  her  peaceful 
and  happy  in  herself,  —  loved  and  respected  by 
others. 

The  guests  had  gone,  and  Jessie  having  kissed 
the  round  fat  face  of  her  good  humored  father, 
was  going  to  bed,  when  a  servant  pale  as  death 
rushed  into  the  room  and  exclaimed  in  a  voice  of 
extreme  terror, 

"  Oh !  Miss,  Master,  what  do  you  think  ?  Poor 
Mr.  Butler,  our  foreman  !  some  one's  been  and 
murdered  him  ! " 

"  Bless- my  soul,"  exclaimed  Havendon,  jump- 
ing up  from  his  easy  chair  as  Jessie  seized  his 
hands  in  horror,  "  what's  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  Sir,  really  I  don't  know —  they've  car- 
ried the  poor  man's  body  home.  It  was  just  by 
the  cross  roads." 

Shocked  as  she  was  at  this  sudden  and  awful 
intelligence,  Jessie's^  quiet  self-possession  did  not 
desert  her ;  they  could  be  of  no  service,  and  all 
she  could  do,  therefore,  was  to  calm  the  terror 
and  excitement  of  the  servants,  and  induce  them 
to  go  to  bed,  assuring  them  that  the  proper  au- 


24  THE  CLOUD. 

thorities  would  take  the  matter  up ;  and  if  they 
sat  up  all  night  to  talk  about  it  they  could  do  no 
good,  that  the  wisest  course  was  to  carefully 
secure  the.  house  and  go  to  bed.  Tremblingly 
they  obeyed  their  gentle  mistress's  biddings,  and 
then  she  turned  to  her  father  and  said, 

"  Who  can  have  done  this  ?  " 

"  Who  ?  my  girl,  —  there's  a  bad  enough  lot 
on  his  way  home  not  to  cause  much  wonder,  — 
when  they  know  his  wages  have  just  been  paid 
him,  too  ;  poor  chap  !  he  wasn't  particular  who 
he  made  his  acquaintance." 

"  Father,  I  wish  he  could  have  been  removed 
from  your  service  by  less  horrible  means,  I  should 
not  have  been  sorry —  then." 

"  Well !  he  was  rather  fond  of  the  bottle,  I 
think ;  but  a  clever  fellow  and  a  useful  man  to 
me,  —  but  you  go  off  to  bed  now,  my  child,  you 
look  pale  as  a  ghosfc,  and  I'll  go  with  one  of  the 
men  and  see  into  this  horrible  business  —  God 
bless  you,"  and  giving  her  a  hearty  kiss  and  hug, 
which  nearly  squeezed  the  breath  out  of  her  body, 
he  sent  her  to  her  room. 


THE  CLOUD.  25 

An  hour  had  passed  away,  —  the  Church  clock 
was  striking,  as  Frank  Lindsay  returned  to  his 
home ;  as  cautiously  as  he  had  gone  out  he  enter- 
ed, closed  and  barred  the  door,  and  stole  up 
stairs.  His  mother's  bedroom  door  was  partially 
open,  a  light  was  burning  there  as  usual,  he  paus- 
ed before  it  and  listened  —  no  sound  but  the  same 
ticking  of  the  old  clock,  and  the  deep  breathing 
of  his  mother.  He  pushed  the  door  gently  and 
stood  gazing  at  her  in  her  calm  sleep ;  he,  so  pale 
and  haggard,  his  hair  damp  with  the  night  dew, 
his  eyes  bloodshot,  stood  and  gazed  at  that  mild 
face,  that  dearly  loved  mother  in  her  peaceful 
slumber,  and  the  hot  tears  seemed  to  scald  his 
eyelids;  —  her  lips  moved,  she  was  speaking  in 
her  sleep. 

"  Yes,  that's  right,  Frank,  say  it  again,  pray 
God  bless  me  and  make  me  a  good  child." 

He  could  bear  no  more ;  the  agony,  that  had 

been  pent  up  in  his  heart  for  hours,  he  could 

endure  no  longer,  —  he  flew  to  the  bedside,  and 

on  his  knees  clasped  the  thin  white  hand  lying  on 

3 


26  THE  CLOUD. 

the  counterpane,  and  wept  like  the  little  child 
that  she  had  dreamed  he  was. 

"  Mother,  dear  Mother,  teach  it  me  again,  that 
simple  prayer,  I  had  forgotten  it." 

She  woke  at  this  first  burst  of  grief,  and  start- 
ed up  in  terror. 

"  My  child  !  my  boy  !  what  is  the  matter  ?  I 
dreamed  I  heard  you  crying,  —  that  you  were  a 
child  and  naughty,  —  and  had  struck  a  little  play- 
mate, and  I " — 

"  And  you  were  teaching  me  to  ask  God  to 
bless  and  make  me  good  :  Mother,  if  I  had  used 
those  simple  words  to-night,  you  would  not  see  me 
thus." 

"  But  what  is  it  all  about  ?  Frank  !  What  has 
happened  ?     What  have  you  done  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  Mother,  by  God's  mercy,  nothing  ;" 
—  he  was  growing  calmer  now,  there  was  some- 
thing to  him  so  soothing  in  his  mother's  low-toned 
voice,  and  the  feel  of  her  soft  hand  upon  his  burn- 
ing head.  "  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  and  then 
I  shall  feel  better  —  perhaps  happier.     You  have 


THE  CLOUD.  27 

heard  me  speak  of  Jessie  Havendon, —  she  is 
good,  Mother,  so  good,  —  in  short,  I  love  her, — 
I  have  never  really  told  her  so,  but  I  think  she 
knows  it.  For  months  she  has  been  persecuted 
by  a  man  who  is  her  father's  foreman,  a  drunken 
fellow,  the  intimate  companion  of  the  worst  in- 
habitants of  Sidemoor.  I  have  had  words  with 
him  incessantly,  —  he  hated  me,  for  he  saw  that 
Jessie,  dear  Jessie,  liked  me. 

"  I  spoke  to  Mr.  Havendon  once  about  him, 
and  complained  of  his  want  of  sobriety  and  violent 
temper,  —  but  he  said,  he  was  a  clever  man,  and 
he  must  put  up  with  the  rest. 

"  To-night  he  was  more  insolent  than  ever,— 
it  was  through  negligence  of  his  I  was  detained 
beyond  my  usual  time,  and  when  I  spoke  to  him 
about  it,  his  cool  insolence  was  irritating  beyond 
description.  I  came  home  in  a  temper  that 
almost  terrified  myself,  —  I  could  not  rest,  —  a 
thousand  thoughts  like  demons  crowded  on  me, — 
my  love  for  Jessie,  —  my  poverty,  —  my  hope- 
lessness ever  to  call  her  mine,  —  my  rage  against 
Butler.     Oh,  Mother,  you  who  are  so  gentle  and 


28  THE  CLOUD. 

so  good,  cannot  understand  all  I  felt  during  that 
hour,  I  determined  then  to  go  out  —  some  vague 
thoughts  possessed  me  never  to  return,  but  to  go 
and  gaze  once  more  at  the  house  which  contained 
her,  and  leave  this  place  for  ever." 

"  Frank ! " 

"  Mother !  I  was  mad,  I  think,"  he  continued, 
pressing  and  kissing  her  hands  —  "  but  listen,  I 
had  just  reached  the  turning  of  the  Sidemoor 
road,  when  I  saw  a  man  stretched  on  the  ground 
with  a  wound  in  his  side  from  which  the  life-blood 
was  flowing  —  it  was  Butler !  " 

"  Merciful  Powers  —  murdered !  " 

"  Yes,  Mother,  yes,  —  the  horror  that  I  felt  I 
cannot  tell  you,  —  what  a  lesson  for  me  —  if  I 
had  met  him  and  he  had  provoked  me  further  and 
I it  is  too  horrid." 

"  Frank,  Frank,  you  would  not  " —  said  the 
poor  Mother  clasping  her  hands  and  looking  wild- 
ly in  her  son's  face. 

"  Mother,  what  will  not  intemperate  anger  do  ? 
That  pallid  corpse  will  haunt  me  to  my  grave." 

"  But  what  did  you  do,  Frank,  did  you  give 


THE  CLOUD.  29 

y 

the  alarm?  Oh!  Heaven,"  she  said  as  a  new 
thought  seemed  to  occur  to  her,  — "  you  surely 
have  not  left  the  body  there  without  calling  as- 
sistance ?  " 

"  I  have,  Mother  —  I  flew  home  I  know  not 
how,  —  but  Mother  do  not  look  so  wildly,"  he  said, 
rising  and  putting  his  arm  around  her,  "  there  is 
no  danger,  no  one  saw  me  I  am  sure,  lights  were 
still  shining  in  Mr;  Havendon's  house  and  there- 
fore some  of  the  company  must  have  been  still 
there :  on  their  return  home  they  will  find  the 
body  of  the  unhappy  man  and  — " 

"  And  you  may  be  suspected  of  his  murder. 
Have  I  lived  so  long  and  suffered  so  much  for 
this  ?  " 

It  was  now  for  Frank  to  console  where  he  had 
sought  consolation,  and  it  was  long  ere  he  could 
calm  the  agitation  of  his  Mother,  or  assure  her,  as 
he  tried  against  his  own  conviction,  that  he  was 
free  from  suspicion.  Long  and  earnest  was  their 
conversation,  and  then  she  persuaded  him  to  go 
to  his  own  room  and  try  to  get  rest  that  his  hag- 
gard face  might  not  excite  remarks  in  the  morn- 


30  THE  CLOUD. 

ing,  so  he  left  her  to  seek  the  rest  he  so  needed  ; 
whilst  she  lay  awake,  listening  to  every  sound 
with  a  strange  and  indefinable  dread. 

As  he  passed  Annie's  door,  he  heard,  or  thought 
he  heard  a  low  sob,  but  it  might  have  been  fancy, 
and  so  he  went  on  to  his  own  room. 

The  sun  rose  in  unclouded  splendor  after  the 
rough  night,  the  wind  had  sunk,  and  it  only  now 
gave  a  slight  sigh  occasionally,  as  though  weary 
of  its  past  exertions.  Grace  had  entered  her 
young  mistress's  room  with  a  face  bright  as  the 
sunshine,  but  the  joyous  voice  with  which  she  was 
about  to  speak  changed  to  one  of  astonishment 
and  grief,  for,  for  the  first  time  since  the  transient 
showers  of  her  childhood,  Annie  was  in  tears. 

"  My  darling,  what  is  it  ?  What  has  hap- 
pened ?  " 

"  Oh,  Grace !  dear  Grace  !  you  love  me,  don't 
you  ?  Come  to  me  and  kiss  me,"  and  she  burst 
into  a  passion  of  weeping.  Her  nurse  tried  every 
effort  to  soothe  her,  as  she  wept  upon  her  shoulder 
like  a  child,  yet  forbore  to  ask  the  cause  of  her 
sorrow  until  its  effects  had  somewhat  subsided; 


THE  CLOUD.  31 

but  then  Annie  said,  "  Ask  me  nothing,  dear 
Grace  —  ask  me  nothing,  I  have  been  very  fool- 
ish. I  am  better  now,  wiser  at  least,  but  the 
cloud  has  fallen  on  me,  Grace,  and  I  can  see  no 
silver  lining.  I  never  shall  be  happy  again,  — 
tell  Auntie  I've  a  headache,  and  leave  me  alone ; 
draw  the  curtains  close,  don't  let  the  gloomy  light 
come  into  my  room ; "  and  throwing  her  little 
flushed  face  back  upon  the  pillow,  she  closed  her 
eyes,  and  seemed  determined  to  speak  no  more. 

Mrs.  Lindsay  who,  as  I  have  said,  had  not 
slept  after  her  son's  communication,  but  passed 
the  night  in  the  most  distressing  dread  that  sus- 
picion might  rest  on  him,  rose  early  and  awaited 
with  anxiety  his  appearance  in  the  parlor ;  she 
would  not  go  to  his  room,  for  she  hoped  he 
was  sleeping.  He  came  down  at  last,  and  though 
still  pale,  he  looked  very  different  from  the  wild 
haggard  being  who  had  disturbed  Mrs,  Lindsay's 
slumbers.  When  they  had  concluded  their  almost 
silent  meal,  for  they  could  neither  of  them  keep 
up  any  lengthened  conversation,  Mrs.  Lindsay 
said, 


32  THE  CLOUD. 

"  Now  will  you  go  with  me  to  Church, 
Frank?" 

"  Yes,  Mother,  I  will,  but  every  eye  that  meets 
mine  will  seem  to  carry  accusation  in  its  glance." 

His  mother  sighed,  and  faltering  some  words  of 
consolation,  rose  from  her  seat,  kissed  his  forehead, 
and  left  him  to  prepare  for  Church. 

Along  the  green  lanes,  across  the  fields  —  by 
the  road,  came  troops  of  people  whom  the  bells  of 
the  Village  Church  were  summoning  to  prayer ; 
aged  men  and  women,  young  men  and  maidens, 
mothers,  fathers  and  their  little  ones,  all  hasten- 
ing to  assemble  beneath  the  roof  of  the  grey  old 
Church,  clear  to  them  from  many  associations  of 
joy  and  sorrow,  of  burials,  and  christenings  and 
marriages  ;  and  as  they  met  in  the  path  all  paus- 
ed to  speak  of  the  murder,  all  pitied  the  wretched 
victim,  but  said  gently  and  reverently,  for  he  was 
dead  now,  "  he  was  a  bad  man." 

Mothers  said,  "  Happily  he  had  no  children  ;" 
Wives,  —  "  It  was  well  he  had  no  wife  ;  "  and 
then  they  crowded  eagerly  round  one  old  man, 
who  lived  near  Sidemoor,  for  he  had  news ;  a 


THE  CLOUD.  33 

man  had  been  taken  up  on  suspicion,  quite  a 
young  fellow,  but  who  bore  a  very  bad  character, 
and  every  circumstance  was  against  him.  All 
drew  near  to  listen,  till  there  was  quite  a  crowd, 
and  the  bell  had  nearly  finished,  when  they  were 
awakened  to  the  fact  by  a  voice  requesting  them 
to  make  way. 

It  was  Frank  with  his  mother  on  his  arm.  As 
he  passed  through  the  little  crowd,  the  men 
touched  their  caps  respectfully  to  Mrs.  Lindsay, 
and  whispered  one  to  the  other,  —  "  How  mortal 
bad  Mr.  Frank  do  look."  He  was  pale,  deadly 
pale,  for  his  heart  was  full,  full  of  penitence  and 
gratitude,  and  never  in  his  life  had  he  felt  such 
an  earnest  desire  as  now,  to  offer  that  sacrifice 
required  of  all,  "  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart," 
or  such  belief  that  his  offering  would  be  accepted. 

In  the  adjoining  hamlet  of  Sidemoor,  no  such 
"  assembling  together "  was  taking  place ;  the 
small  Church  was  never  open  in  the  morning,  for 
the  clergyman  from  Allerton  did  the  duty  there 
in  the  afternoon,  when  a  few  women  and  dirty 
squalid   children,  and  one  or  two  hulking  boys 


34  THE  CLOUD. 

strolled  in,  and  either  fell  asleep,  or  sat  whisper- 
ing together  and  often  laughing.  There  seemed 
a  blight  upon  the  place,  the  cottages  were  few, 
dirty  and  out  of  repair,  and  inhabited  by  the 
worst  of  each  sex.  If  there  ever  had  been  re- 
spectable people  dwelling  there,  they  must  have 
been  driven  out  by  the  bad,  for  they  were  all 
gone  now.  The  before-mentioned  clergyman  said 
he  had  done  all  he  could,  that  they  were  incor- 
rigible ;  when  he  first  came,  he  had  hoped  to  do 
good,  and  he  had  built  a  school,  but  the  mothers 
would  not  send  the  children,  and  now  with  all  the 
windows  broken  and  covered  with  mud  which  had 
been  thrown  at  it,  it  stood  empty  and  deserted. 

Alas  !  that  such  spots  should  darken  the  face 
of  sunny  England  ;  that  in  these  days  there  should 
be  dwellings  in  which  there  is  neither  Faith,  nor 
Hope,  nor  Love  ;  that  from  childish  lips  should 
come  forth  oaths  ;  that  that  sweet  age  of  guileless 
innocence  should  be  one  of  infamy  and  subtlety, — 
growing  up  in  vice, —  growing  up  to  fill  our  pri- 
sons and  our  convict  ships. 

It  is  well  that  good  and  zealous   men  should 


THE  CLOUD.  35 

with  stern  self-denial  forsake  their  homes,  and  in 
exile,  persecution  and  privation,  strive  to  lighten 
the  darkened  mind  of  the  wild  Indian,  and  lead 
him  to  the  fold  of  the  good  Shepherd  ;  but  there 
are  lost  sheep  here,  whom  it  were  better  first  to 
strive  to  bring  home.  Prisons  and  penal  settle- 
ments may  teem  with  felons,  and  the  hangman 
grow  weary  of  his  unceasing  labor,  but  crime  will 
never  cease,  till  the  young  are  brought  up  in 
"  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord,"  till 
His  zealous  disciples  live  amongst  the  poor  in 
their  parishes,  checking  the  first  appearance  of 
evil,  and  teaching  them,  that  order,  discipline  and 
decorum,  the  first  forgetfulness  of  which  is  the 
first  step  to  crime. 

On  this  morning  several  people  were  standing 
round  one  of  the  wretched  cottages,  the  door  of 
which  was  partly  open,  but  the  entrance  was 
choked  up  with  people.  Two  surly  looking  men 
smoking  short  pipes,  a  dirty  woman  with  a  pale 
sickly  infant  in  her  arms,  and  a  young  ruffianly 
looking  lad  with"  his  arm  round  the  neck  of  a  very 
pretty  girl,  whose  long  rough  hair  hanging  down 


36  THE  CLOUD. 

almost  to  her  waist,  he  was  twirling  round  his 
fingers,  were  the  principal  personages  who  stood 
outside.  In  the  interior  crouched  on  the  brick 
floor  sat  Ruth  Newington,  her  long  staff  in  her 
hand,  which  she  was  shaking  angrily,  and  utter- 
ing a  variety  of  threats  against  some  one,  which 
caused  every  now  and  then  a  burst  of  laughter 
from  the  people  who  were  thus  standing  round 
the  cottage. 

"  Oh !  it's  no  use,  Goody  !"  said  one  of  the 
men,  taking  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  for  a  moment, 
"  they've  got  him  now,  and  he'll  swing  for  it, 
depend  on  it.  W here's  the  money  ?  Did  he 
leave  you  that  ?    Eh?" 

u  Give  us  some  of  it,  old  girl,  if  he  did,"  said 
another.  "  She  don't  know  the  use  of  it,"  he 
continued  in  a  lower  tone,  "  we  may  just  as  well 
have  it ;  where  does  she  keep  it  ?  " 

"  Here,  I'll  go  and  see,"  said  the  young  fellow 
taking  his  arm  from  the  girl's  neck,  "  I'll  get 
it  if  it  be  there,"  and  he  made  a  movement  for- 
ward. 

"No,  no,  Sam,  don't  tease  her  now,"   said 


THE  CLOUD.  37 

the  girl  holding  him  back,  "  she  be  so  frightened 
and  scared." 

She  was  a  woman,  —  the  spark  of  humanity 
was  not  quite  extinguished,  — -  moreover  she  en- 
deavored to  induce  them  all  to  leave  the  poor 
creature,  by  saying  she  would  stay  with  her,  but' 
she  only  won  them  to  consent,  by  promising  if 
Ruth  slept,  to  hunt  for  the  money  and  bring  it 
to  them ;  so  they  dispersed,  some  to  the  bye-lanes 
to  play  at  various  games,  smoke  their  pipes  and 
quarrel,  and  others  to  the  wretched  dwellings 
they  called  homes. 

Yes  —  the  grandson  of  Ruth  was  the  murderer 
of  Richard  Butler.  The  son  of  Ruth's  only 
daughter,  whose  misconduct  it  was  said  had  turn- 
ed his  toother's  brain,  Sandy  ISTewington,  had  lived 
with  the  poor  creature  since  his  mother's  death ; 
all  the  money  given  her  in  compassion  to  her  in- 
firmity he  took  from  her,  and  used  her  with  the 
greatest  coarseness  and  brutality,  but  she  did  not 
seem  to  be  aware  of  it,  and  loved  him  and  talked 
of  him  as  her  "  dear  good  boy."  Idle  and  worth- 
less, the  constant  inmate  of  the  alehouse,  he  be- 
4 


38  THE  CLOUD. 

came  known  to  Butler,  whose  love  of  drink  and 
low  company  brought  him  to  the  same  place. 
Sandy  had  little  trouble  himself  as  to  who  he  was, 
until  at  length  under  the  influence  of  drink  But- 
ler began  to  brag  of  his  situation,  and  the  large 
'salary  paid  him  every  Saturday — Butler  was 
now  a  corpse,  and  the  wages  of  which  he  boasted, 
in  the  pocket  of  his  murderer.  Sandy  had  made 
no  effort  to  conceal  himself,  on  the  contrary,  he 
walked  into  the  alehouse  immediately  after.  Of 
course  he  was  soon  taken,  and  he  laughed  at  the 
agony  of  his  bewildered  grandmother  as  the  offi- 
cers bore  him  away.  Fear  he  had  none,  he  cared 
not  what  became  of  him  now,  and  he  had  never 
been  taught  what  would  become  of  him  hereafter. 

When  Frank  and  his  mother  returned  from 
Church,  they  found  Annie  in  the  parlor,  she  rose 
and  kissed  her  Aunt  and  held  out  her  hand  to 
Frank,  but  she  did  not  speak  until  Mrs.  Lindsay 
asked  her  how  she  felt. 

"  Better,  Auntie,  but  my  head  still  aches.5* 
What  an  altered  voice  —  a  sweet,  melancholy 
sadness  in  its  tone,  so  unlike  her  former  bright 


THE  CLOUD.  39 

and  joyous  one.  Mrs.  Lindsay  looked  earnestly 
at  her. 

"  Did  you  sleep  well,  Annie,  dear  ?  " 

Frank  started  and  went  out  of  the  room,  saying 
hurriedly,  he  should  take  a  walk.  Mrs.  Lindsay 
repeated  her  question. 

"  Yes,  Auntie,  when  I  got  to  sleep,  very  well. 
Have  you  had  a  good  sermon  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  very ;  have  you  or  the  servants 
heard  the  shocking  news  ?  " 

Annie  turned  her  head  and  looked  out  of  the 
window,  as  she  said, 

"  About  the  murder  r  Yes ;  the  milkwoman 
told  Grace, — the  man's  taken  up." 

"  The  man,  — the  murderer,  —  is  he  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Lindsay  eagerly,  "  and  are  they  sure  he  is 
the  right  one  ?  " 

"  Y"es,  Auntie,  they  have  no  other  suspicion 
whatever,  —  it  is  Sandy  Newington,  Ruth's  grand- 
son." 

Annie  had  spoken  this  slowy,  and  with  em- 
phasis,—  but  she  never  turned  her  head  from  the 
window,  though  she  heard  her  Aunt  leave  the  room. 


40  THE  CLOUD. 

The  day  passed  slowly, — Frank  went  with  his 
mother  to  the  second  service,  —  and  she  then  pro- 
posed he  should  go  and  inquire  how  Jessie  Haven- 
don  was ;  whether  the  news  of  the  murder  had 
alarmed  her.  She  was  sometime  before  she  could 
persuade  him,  but  she  succeeded  at  last,  promis- 
ing him  he  should  find  tea  waiting  for  him  on  his 
return. 

Annie  and  her  Aunt  sat  reading  for  some  time, 
and  then  the  light  began  to  fade,  and  they  closed 
their  books  and  drew  near  the  fire. 

"  Auntie,  dear,"  said  Annie  in  that  sweet  sad 
voice  she  had  spoken  in  all  the  day,  "  I  think  I 
have  found  out  something  which  used  to  puzzle 
me, — how  you  have  borne  all  your  troubles  ;  you 
have  found  the  way  here,"  she  said,  laying  her 
hand  on  the  Bible  in  her  lap,  "  this  has  taught 
you  all  the  calmness  and  endurance  which  has 
often  set  me  wondering,  and  you  must  have 
studied  it  when  you  were  quite  young, — young 
as  I  am, — till  you  had  stored  in  your  heart  a 
lesson  for  every  fault,  a  promise  for  every  good, 
and  a  consolation  for  every  sorrow ;  I  thought,  so 


THE  CLOUD.  41 

foolishly,  sinfully  I  am  afraid,  dear  Auntie, — that 
this  book  and  all  serious  thoughts  and  readings 
were  for  old  people,  but  now  I  know  that  there  is 
hope  and  comfort  in  it  for  all,  and  that  if  it  is  not 
studied  in  youth,  it  will  not  help  us  in  age." 

Astonished  at  this  change  in  the  light-hearted, 
thoughtless,  childish  Annie,  Mrs.  Lindsay  scarce- 
ly knew  how  to  answer.  Before  she  had  time  to 
reply,  however,  Annie  slipped  from  her  chair,  and 
kneeling  down  by  her  Aunt  with  her  head  on  her 
shoulder,  said : 

"  Amongst  all  your  troubles  you  never  told  me 
whether, — whether, — you  were  so  unfortunate, 
so  silly,  as  to  love  any  one, — who  didn't,- — who 
loved  some  one  else  ?" 

Mrs.  Lindsay  gave  the  slightest  possible  start, 
and  then  said,  as  she  laid  her  hand  on  the  golden 
hair  of  her  niece, 

"  No,  my  child,  I  was  spared  that ;  but  a  case 
of  the  kind  occurred  in  my  own  family ;  a  sweet 
young  girl,  joyous  and  merry-hearted,  had  been 
brought  up  by  a  relation,  and  was  constantly  and 
unavoidably  thrown  into  contact  with  this  lady's 
4* 


42  THE  CLOUD. 

son ;  no  one  could  know  the  girl  without  loving 
her,  but  the  young  man  loved  her  as  his  darling 
little  cousin  only.  She  one  day  discovered  his 
affection  for  another, —  her  eyes  were  opened,  she 
was  his  cousin,  nothing  more, —  she  had  no  other 
home  —  she  must  learn  to  hear  this  her  first  trial 
bravely,  like  a  woman,  like  a  Christian;  so, 
Annie,  she  buried  the  secret  in  her  heart,  told  no 
one,  not  even  her  fond  old  Aunt,  but  rejoiced  in 
this  her  first  sorrow,  because  it  taught  her  the 
truth  and  value  of  those  beautiful  words ;  "  Before 
I  was  troubled  I  went  wrong,  but  now  have  I 
kept  thy  law." 

Annie  made  no  answer,  but  clung  close  to  her 
Aunt,  and  sobbed  as  though  her  little  heart  were 
breaking ;  that  night  when  she  fervently  kissed 
her  dear  nurse,  she  said,  smiling  through  her 
tears, 

"  Grace  !  I  have  found  the  cloud — but  I  think 
I  do  see  the  edge  of  the  lining," 

Long  after  she  was  gone  to  bed,  Frank  sat  up 
talking  to  his  mother  ;  he  told  her  that  Jessie  had 
been  kind  to  him,  kinder  than   usual,  but  that 


THE  CLOUD.  43 

every  gentle  look  and  word  had  gone  to  his  heart, 
for  he  felt  how  ill  he  deserved  them,  "  besides 
the  one  obstacle  which  has  always  seemed  to  be 
between  us,  her  wealth  and  my  poverty,  there  is 
now  a  greater,  Mother  ;  I  am  not  worthy  of  her ; 
your  teaching,  your  example  had  made  me  some- 
thing near  to  her  in  goodness,  until  last  night  the 
demon  of  evil  entered  me,  and  can  I  clasp  to  the 
heart  that  has  even  harbored  a  guilty  thought,  a 
being  of  such  goodness  and  purity;" — his  hand 
was  in  his  mother's  as  he  spoke,  she  pressed  it 
fondly,  and  turning  on  him  her  soft  blue  eyes 
said  : 

"  My  boy,  in  a  life  of  almost  unceasing  sorrow, 
in  which  I  can  scarce  number  twelve  happy  months, 
nothing  has  ever  given  me  greater  grief  than  the 
knowledge  that  my  darling  child  could  have 
permitted  passion  to  have  such  power  over  him  ; 
and  a  sinking  cold  sensation  comes  over  me  when 
I  consider  what  you  might  have  done ;  but  you 
must  remember  you  are  as  much  overrating  Jes- 
sie's goodness  as  your  own  sinfulness.  I  believe 
her  to  be  a'  very  good  girl,  she  has  had  an  excel- 


44  THE  CLOUD. 

lent  mother,  and  has  profited  by  her  excellent 
teaching,  but,  Frank,  she  is  human,  and  has 
faults  which  if  roused  by  temptation  might  be- 
come sins  grievous  as  yours,  though  of  a  different 
nature. 

"A  dear  old  friend  of  mine  used,  with  the 
truest  Christian  charity,  to  say,  when  he  heard 
any  one  being  loudly  condemned  for  some  fault, — 
6  Ah  !  well,  yes,  it  seems  very  bad  to  me,  because 
that's  not  my  way  of  sinning.'  We  are  all  sin- 
ners, Frank,  dear,  but  some  of  us  are  more  tried, 
more  tempted, — we  have  none  of  us  hope  but  in 
mercy.  Remember  this  when  you  would  judge 
too  harshly  ;  remember  this  when  you  would  love 
too  fondly ;  there  is  no  perfection  in  human 
nature.  Passion  had  almost  maddened  you,  and 
you  might  have  revenged  yourself  on  the  man 
who  had  sinned  against  you,  forgetting  that  there 
is  One  alone  who  will  repay.  He  has,  I  hope 
and  pray,  my  clear  Frank,  pardoned  you,  for  he 
has  promised  it  to  those  who  repent ;  do  not  let 
this  then  add  another  obstacle  or  be  a  hindrance 
to  your  obtaining  a  good  wife,  whose  love  will 


THE  CLOUD.  45 

comfort  you,  whose  good  counsels  will  assist  you 

when  I  am " 

"  Dear  Mother  !  Thank  you  for  the  comfort- 
ing words  you  have  spoken,  but  I  am  only  a  poor 
clerk,"  he  continued,  smiling  faintly,  "  and  Jes- 
sie Havendon  is  an  heiress ;  but  we  must  to  bed 
now,  I  have  kept  you  up  already  too  late." 


THE    LINING. 


Time  passed  on,  but  with  it  Frank's  depression 
increased  rather  than  diminished.  He  began  to 
look  ill,  and  his  mother  grew  sadly  anxious  about 
him.  Where  the  corn  had  waved  so  gracefully 
in  the  breeze,  there  was  rough  stubble  now,  the 
trees  were  leafless,  the  hedges  bare ;  in  place  of 
the  green  foliage  was  now  the  hoar  frost ;  the 
cattle  were  taken  into  their  warm  sheds,  and  all 
spoke  of  Winter,  —  of  Christmas  time,  which  some 
were  looking  forward  to  with  so  much  joy,  others 
with  as  great  a  dread. 

There  is  now  a  new  and  very  constant  visitor 
beneath  Mrs.  Lindsay's  cottage  roof,  a  youog 
pale  man,  remarkable  only  for  a  look  of  the 
greatest  benevolence.     He   has   been   some  two 


48  THE   LINING. 

months  a  resident  in  Sidemoor, — actually  in  Side- 
moor  ;  with  peaceful  lovely  Allerton  so  near,  he 
chose  a  home  in  Sidemoor.  He  had  heard  of  its 
awful  condition,  and  possessing  a  little  property 
beside  what  he  earned  as  a  doctor,  he  took  one  of 
the  long-deserted  houses,  and  began  his  seemingly 
hopeless  but  benevolent  scheme  of  reforming  the 
wretched  inhabitants.  He  became  acquainted 
with  the  Lindsays,  and  there  found  his  recreation 
after  the  labors  of  the  day;  —  to  them  he  would 
recount  all  he  had  done,  —  all  he  hoped  to  do. 

They  were  ready  listeners,  especially  Annie, 
she  would  sit  beside  him,  her  blue  eyes  fixed  on 
his  pale  intellectual  face,  and  eagerly  drink  in  all 
he  told  her,  of  how  at  first  they  had  insulted  and 
jeered  at  him,  of  how  his  curing  a  woman  of  a 
dreadful  illness  had  turned  the  tide  in  his  favor, 
and  that  now  he  could  not  only  pass  through  the 
street  unmolested,  but  they  seemed  to  respect 
him ;  of  once  when  he  had  been  sitting  by  a 
woman's  bedside,  a  boy  had  tried  to  pick  his 
pocket,  but  the  father  had  pushed  him  angrily 
away,  and  bid  him  remember  it  was  "  the  good 


THE   LINING.  49 

doctor"  —  of  the  long  conversations  he  had  had 
with  the  Vicar,  "who  had  come  into  his  views  very 
readily,  and  how  together  they  hoped  to  finish  the 
good  work, 

On  the  ensuing  Monday  the  school  was  to  be 
re-opened,  four  mothers  had  promised  him  their 
children  should  go,  and  he  hoped  before  that  day 
to  get  many  more. 

Poor  Annie,  whose  childish  mirthfulness  had 
never  returned,  and  who  had  until  now  manifest- 
ed a  gentle  apathy, — seemed  roused  into  activity 
again,  by  the  young  doctor's  recitals,  and  was 
never  weary  of  listening  to  him.  On  the  Monday 
evening  that  the  school  opened,  he  was  with  the 
Lindsays  again,  for  Annie  had  begged  he  would 
come  and  tell  them  about  it.  He  was  in  great 
spirits,  six  children  had  been  and  behaved  toler- 
ably well,  and  the  Yicar  was  going  to  have  a 
Curate, — and  the  little  Church  was  to  be  opened 
in  the  morning  as  well  as  in  the  afternoon.  He 
was  full  of  hope  and  excitement ;  his  plain  pale 
face  was  tinged  with  color,  and  Annie  began  to 
wonder  how  she  could  ever  have  thought  him  ugly. 
5 


50  THE   LINING. 

He  was  so  clever,  at  least  he  seemed  so  to 
Annie,  that  she  was  always  afraid  to  talk  to  him 
much,  and  for  many  evenings  she  had  been  sum- 
moning courage  to  say  something  to  him ;  she 
had  felt,  as  he  spoke  so  warmly  and  energetically 
of  all  he  meant  to  do  for  these  wretched  people, 
and  as  she  watched  the  brightness  which  kindled 
in  his  face,  that  he  must  have  found  the  true  pur- 
pose and  aim  of  life  ;  that  he  was  fulfilling  the 
command  to  "love  one  another"  in  its  highest 
sense,  for  he  was  loving  them  in  deed  as  well  as 
word,  loving  those  whom  it  was  hard  to  love, — 
not  because  they  loved  him,  and  it  was  pleasant 
to  him  to  serve  them, — but  from  that  best  and 
highest  motive, — because  he  felt  they  had  souls 
to  be  saved,  and  that  they  must  not  be  lost  for 
want  of  a  hand  stretched  out  to  help  them ;  and 
as  she  reflected  on  all  this,  she  thought  how  hap- 
py he  must  be,  to  be  thus  doing  his  duty, — how 
few  things  could  have  power  to  make  him  wretch- 
ed, thus  well  employed, — how  little  time  he  must 
have  to  brood  over  disappointments  and  sorrows, 
and   as  she  drew  near  to  him,  and,  raising  her 


THE   LINING.  51 

eyes  to  his  face,  said  so  softly  that  he  only  could 
catch  the  words : 

"  May  I  help  you  ;  I  don't  know  that  I  could 
be  of  much  use,  but  I  think  I  could  teach  in  the 
school." 

What  a  delighted  face  he  turned  on  her  as  she 
spoke,  and  how  earnestly  he  said, 

"  Thank  you  a  thousand  times,  but  can  you 
venture  among  such  people,  though,"  he  continued 
hastily  as  if  fearful  of  frightening  her  from  her 
good  purpose,  "  I  shall  always  be  there  to  take 
care  of  you." 

"  To  take  care  of  you  ! "  simple  words,  but  to 
him  as  he  uttered  them,  and  to  Annie  as  she 
heard  them,  they  sounded  strangely,  and  a  bright 
blush  mounted  to  her  temples.  There  was  an 
awkward  pause,  and  soon  after  he  rose  and  said 
he  must  go,  shook  hands  twice  with  Frank  and 
then  apologized,  and  said  he  did  not  mean  it,  and 
then  laughed,  and  wished  Mrs.  Lindsay  "  good 
morning,"  and  so  left  the  house  very  awkwardly. 

Mrs.  Lindsay  said  he  was  so  excited  about  his 
plans  he  did  not  know  what  he  was  doing.    Frank 


52  THE   LINING. 

said  nothing ;  he  was  too  much  absorbed  in  his 
own  feelings  to  notice  anything,  —  and  Annie 
said,  "  she  could  not  eat  any  supper,"  and  went 
to  bed. 

But  it  was  not  much  use  Annie's  going  to  bed 
as  far  as  sleep  went,  for  her  little  head  was  full  of 
schemes,  —  such  romantic  notions  filled  her  brain, 
such  improbable  ideas, — but  she  went  to  sleep 
finally,  fully  determined  to  put  in  practice  two  of 
her  plans  ;  one  was  to  teach  in  the  schools,  and 
the  other  was  a  secret ! 

She  was  up  very  early  in  the  morning,  a  sharp 
cold  morning  it  was  too,  enough  to  freeze  up  the 
very  best  resolutions  of  doing  anything  but  sitting 
knees  and  nose  in  the  fire  ;  but  Annie  was  a 
heroine,  and  so  her  resolutions  kept  as  firm  in 
that  blank  cold  frosty  morning,  as  when  they 
were  formed  in  her  own  warm  bed  the  night 
before.     The  moment  after  breakfast,  she  said, 

"  Auntie,  dear,  I  am  going  for  a  walk,  can  I 
do  anything  for  you  in  the  village  ?" 

"Auntie"  looked  up  at  her  wonderingly ;  — 
almost  the  old  bright  voice  again.     "  No,  dear, 


THE   LINING.  06 

nothing,  thank  you,"  she  answered,  "  is  Grace 
going  with  you  ?" 

"  No,  Auntie,  I  am  going  by  myself,  good 
bye  ! "  and,  seemingly  afraid  to  be  stopped  for 
another  moment,  she  started  off. 

Over  the  common,  the  bleak  common,  Annie 
trotted  briskly,  —  the  keen  wind  blew  in  her  face, 
but  she  only  drew  her  cloak  closer  round  her  and 
walked  faster ;  it  did  not  blow  away  a  sweet 
smile  that  was  resting  on  her  lips  ;  —  the  dimples 
had  had  a  long  holiday,  but  they  had  all  come  back 
to  wrork  to-day.  On  she  hurried, — no  time  but  for 
a  blithe  good  morning  to  the  friends  she  met,  no 
time  to  stop  and  kiss  the  children  even,  though  as 
she  passes  the  cottages  they  run  out  and  call 
after  her ;  along  the  high  road,  over  a  bridge, 
down  a  long  lane,  and  then  she  stops  before 
James  Havendon's  pretty  cottage,  she  pauses  as 
though  to  take  breath  after  such  a* sharp  walk, 
and  then  pulls  the  gate-bell.  All  the  dogs  begin 
to  bark,  they  do  not  know  what  a  good  little  girl 
is  at  the  gate,  or  they  would  not  make  such  an 
angry  noise.  Mr.  Havendon,  for  whom  she  asks, 
5* 


54  THE   LINING. 

is  at  home,  and  so  she  goes  in.  No,  no,  curious 
reader,  you  are  not  going  in,  too,  you  must  wait 
till  she  comes  out  again,  though  it  is  cold  outside. 

She  is  a  long  time,  but  at  last  she  comes,  with 
such  a  flushed  face,  but  still  the  dimples ;  and,  at 
the  same  rapid  pace,  she  retraces  her  steps,  but 
not  all  the  way  home.  At  the  bridge  she  makes 
a  turn  and  goes  towards  Sidemoor ;  as  she  reaches 
the  entrance  of  the  village,  she  slackens  her  pace 
as  though  afraid  to  enter  it  alone, — not  alone, 
Annie,  —  a  voice  behind  her  startles  her,  and 
looking  round  she  sees  the  young  doctor. 

"  Miss  Lindsay,  are  you  really  going  to  the 
school  ?     This  is  very  kind." 

It  is  not  chronicled  what  answer  Annie  made  ; 
if  called  upon  herself  to  say,  she  would  not  know, 
but  she  put  her  arm  through  his  when  he  offered 
it  to  her,  and  walked  on  to  the  school.  And  day 
after  day  from  that  morning  was  Annie  found 
diligently  at  her  task,  —  patiently,  cheerfully 
teaching  those  dense,  dogged  children,  seeming 
to  make  little  impression  on  them,  nothing  to  en- 
courage her  in  their  progress,  but  as  she  raises 


THE   LINING.  55 

her  eyes  from  the  book,  the  contents  of  which  she 
is  so  earnestly  endeavoring  to  impress  on  the 
minds  of  her  pupils,  she  sees  a  pale  face  and  dark 
eyes  fixed  earnestly  upon  her,  looking  approving- 
ly and  encouragingly  at  her.  And  she  is  proud 
and  satisfied,  the  roses  come  back  to  he1*  cheeks, 
the  smile  to  her  lips,  the  bright  joyous  tones  to 
her  voice,  and  with  all  her  old  playfulness  she 
endeavors  to  cheer  Frank,  to  draw  him  from 
his  moody  silence ;  and  again  her  ringing  laugh 
gladdens  the  heart  of  her  old  Nurse,  and  of  her 
Aunt,  who  wonders  at  the  change,  but  calls  her  a 
u  brave  little  girl." 

It  is  Christmas  Eve,  every  one  in  the  village  is 
busy  and  excited.  For  the  first  time  in  Sidemoor 
for  many  years,  Christmas  is  thought  of  and  kept ; 
in  the  little  window-panes  pieces  of  holly  and 
laurel  are  placed,  and  mothers  are  actually  work- 
ing to  make  their  children  neat  for  Christmas  Day ; 
—  those  who  have  come  regularly  to  school  are 
to  have  new  dresses  given  them,- — new  dresses  ! 
to  those  who  in  their  little  lives  could  only  re- 
member  to   have   worn    dirty   rags,  —  they   are 


56  THE   LINING. 

looking  forward  with  a  strange  interest  to  to- 
morrow. 

Annie  had  been  very  busy  and  excited  all  the 
morning,  busy  in  her  own  room, — her  Aunt  had 
scarcely  seen  anything  of  her.  "When  she  was 
quite  sure  Frank  was  gone  out,  and  that  her 
Aunt  was  alone,  she  came  down  stairs  with  a 
strange  new  sort  of  expression  on  her  face,  and 
entered  the  parlor.  Her  Aunt  was  reading  ;  she 
came  close  to  her  and  laid  her  hand  upon  her 
shoulder.     Mrs.  Lindsay  looked  up : 

"'Well,  my  love,"  she  said,  "  what  is  it?" 

Annie  looked  at  her  and  smiled,  and  then  grew 
very  red,  and  said : 

"  Auntie,  are  you  tired  of  me  ? " 

"  Tired  of  you,  my  child  !  what  a  question  ! 
Why?" 

"  Because,  because,  Auntie,  I  am  going  away," 

Her  Aunt  looked  startled  and  distressed, — in 
a  moment  Annie's  arms  were  round  her. 

"  Dear,  dear  Auntie,  not  far  away,  how  could 
I  ?  from  you,  my  dearest,  best  friend,  my  Mother, 
—  close  to  you  I  shall  be  always,  for  ever  I  hope, 


THE   LINING.  57 

but  with,"  she  added,  in  a  lower  voice,  "  Ernest 
to  take  care  of  me,  and  love  me,  for,  Auntie,  he 
wants  me  to  be  his  little  wife." 

For  a  moment  Mrs.  Lindsay  made  no  reply,  so 
completely  was  she  astounded  by  this  intelligence, 
and  with  the  inconsistency  of  human  nature,  she 
was  disappointed  that  Annie  had  ceased,  could 
cease,  to  love  her  son ; — but  it  was  a  momentary 
feeling,  the  higher,  better  part  of  her  nature 
triumphed,  and  she  kissed  fondly  the  burning 
cheek  of  her  little  niece,  and  said  heartily : 

"lam  delighted  to  hear  it,  my  darling  child, 
and  I  hope,  I  am  sure,  you  will  be  very  happy." 

With  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  still  smiling  bright- 
ly, Annie  said : 

"  Auntie,  dear,  I  did  try  to  bear  my  trial 
bravely  like  a  woman, — like  a  Christian,  —  and  I 
have  learnt  to  rejoice  in  it,  because  it  has  taught 
me  the  true  value  of  those  beautiful  words,  '  Be- 
fore I  was  troubled  I  went  wrong,  but  now  have 
I  kept  thy  law.' " 

"  True,  true,  my  dear  girl,  go  on  through  life 
as  you  have  begun,  struggling  against  a  weak 


58  THE   LINING. 

indulgence  of  unavailing  regrets,  always  bearing 
in  mind  that  we  were  not  placed  here  to  be  made 
happy,  but  to  learn  to  deserve  to  be,  and  that  the 
surest  way  to  forget  our  own  troubles  is  to  do  as 
you  have  done,  strive  to  lighten  those  of  others. 
I  suppose  Mr.  Ernest  Carrington  will  dine  with 
us  to-morrow. 

"  Yes,  please,  Auntie." 

Auntie  sighed  as  she  said, 

"  I  wish  both  my  children  were  equally  happy." 

"  Patience,  Auntie,"  answered  Annie,  and 
again  kissing  her  she  flew  off  to  communicate  her 
tidings  to  one  who  would  be  equally  glad  to  hear 
them, — her  fond  and  faithful  nurse. 

James  Havendon  had  ordered  that  all  employed 
in  his  service  should  leave  business  early,  and, 
therefore,  as  soon  as  it  was  dusk  Frank  prepared 
to  go  home;  not  joyfully  as  the  others, — he 
would  just  as  soon  have  remained  in  the  counting 
house, — for  he  was  working  for  Jessie's  father. 
Since  the  night  of  Butler's  murder,  Frank  had 
been  an  altered  man  ;  before  that  he  had  been  full 
of  hopes,  of  plans  for  the  future,  all  connected 


THE   LINING.  59 

with  a  vague  idea  of  Jessie's  sharing  that  future  ; 
from  that  moment  such  dreams  had  vanished, 
although  he  loved  her  even  more  deeply  ;  but  he 
had  made  a  stern  resolution  that  never,  while  there 
was  the  slightest  chance  of  his  temper  becoming 
uncontrollable,  would  he  seek  to  make  that  gentle 
girl  his  wife  ;  since  then,  since  that  evening,  his 
whole  thoughts  and  energies  had  been  concen- 
trated on  this  one  point,  this  one  hope,  to  render 
himself  worthy  of  being  loved  by  J  essie  Haven- 
don  ;  before,  he  had  only  thought  to  make  him- 
self rich  enough.  He  was  just  leaving  the  house, 
when  he  was  told  Mr.  Havendon  wished  to  speak 
to  him.  Of  course  he  obeyed  the  summons  and 
presented  himself  before  him. 

"  Mr.  Lindsay,"  he  began,  "  take  a  chair.  I'm 
a  man  of  few  words,  and  I  like  to  go  to  the  point 
without  circumlocution.  A  little  bird,  as  the  say- 
ing goes,  has  told  me  something  about  you,  that 
I  should  like  to  hear  the  truth  of." 

Frank  shuddered,  for  the  thought  which  always 
possessed  him  rose  to  his  mind  now,  that  Haven- 
don was  alluding  to  Butler ;  for,  although  New- 


60  THE   LINING. 

ington  was  convicted  of  the  murder,  still  that 
"  conscience  which  makes  cowards  of  us  all" 
kept  him  in  continual  dread  that  some  one  might 
have  seen  him  standing  by  the  body  on  that  fatal 
night. 

As  he  seemed  waiting  for  an  answer,  Frank  re- 
plied, "  You  shall  hear  nothing  else  from  me,  sir." 

"That  I'm  sure  of,  lad,  that  I'm  sure  of,  par- 
ticularly as  I  am  not  going  exactly  to  accuse  you 
of  a  crime." 

Frank  grew  paler  and  paler,  it  was  too  evident, 
at  least  so  he  thought,  to  what  he  alluded. 

"It's  quite  excusable  in  a  young  fellow  like 
you,"  he  continued;  "I'm  not  going  to  be  hard 
on  you,  so  speak  out  bravely;"  there  was  a  merry 
chuckle  in  the  old  man's  voice,  and  a  roguish 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  which  Frank  thought  strange, 
in  connection  with  such  a  subject.  Some  weeks 
ago  it  would  have  irritated  him,  but  his  self-disci- 
pline had  not  been  in  vain,  and  he  remained  quite 
calm. 

"The  fact  is,  Mr.  Lindsay,  to  make  a  long 
story  short,  I  understand  you  love  my  daughter." 


THE   LINING.  61 

The  room  seemed  to  turn  round  with  him,  as 
the  old  man  uttered  these  words,  so  completely 
was  he  unprepared  for  such  a  speech,  but  he 
made  an  effort  to  recover  himself,  and  an- 
swered, 

"  I  cannot  guess,  sir,  how  you  have  become 
possessed  of  the  knowledge  of  this  fact,  for  I  do 
not  deny  that  it  is  one,  but  situated  as  I  am  I 
never  have,  never  should  dare  to  have  made- either 
you  or  your  daughter  acquainted  with  such  a 
hopeless  passion ;  it  has  never  passed  my  lips,  but 
to  my  mother,  and  how  it  has  reached  your 
ears" — 

"Ha!  ha!  I  never  tell  secrets,  but  all  these 
delicate  affairs  are  not  for  a  rough  old  fellow  like 
me  ;  I  only  wanted  to  know  the  truth,  and  I  have 
asked  a  lady  relation  of  mine  to  come  and  talk 
this  over  seriously  with  you,  so  you  wait  here 
a  bit,  and  I'll  send  her  to  you  ; "  and  rising  quick- 
ly, Havendon  hurried  out  of  the  room,  leaving 
Frank  lost  in  thought,  as  to  how  he  had  learnt 
this,  and  whether  he  was  displeased  or  otherwise. 

His  back  was  to  the  door,  and  he  was  so  ab- 
6 


62  THE   LINING. 

sorbed  as  not  to  hear  it  re-open ;  the  rustling  of  a 
dress  first  roused  him,  and  turning,  he  saw  Jessie, 
his  darling  Jessie,  blushing  and  smiling  before 
him.  What  did  it  all  mean  ?  He  could  not 
speak  or  move,  but  she  advanced  slowly  to  him 
and  said  in  a  low  trembling  voice,  "  My  father 
said  you  wanted  me." 

"I!  Miss  Havendon,  no  —  I — -this  is  too 
cruel/'  —  and  poor  Frank  covered  his  eyes  with 
his  hands,  as  though  to  shut  out  that  sweet  blush- 
ing face  which  he  had  so  long  worshipped  silently. 
There  was  an  instant's  pause,  and  then  he  felt  a 
soft  hand  laid  on  his,  and  heard  with  acute  dis- 
tinctness, although  spoken  very  softly,  "  Frank, 
dear  Frank," — he  waited  for  no  more,  all  resolu- 
tions, everything  vanished  but  his  love,  his  deep 
absorbing  love,  and  the  bewildering  certainty  that 
it  was  returned. 

Reader,  we  have  'no  .right  here;  —  we  will 
imagine  half  an  hour  to  have  passed,  and  Frank 
is  again  in  the  presence  of  James  Havendon,  tell- 
ing him  of  his  long  continued  love  for  his  daugh- 
ter, and  his  fear  of  rejection  from  his  poverty. 


THE   LINING.  bo 

"  My  lad,"  replied  Havendon,  "  there's  no 
shame  in  that,  she'll  have  enough  for  both  of  you. 
I  only  ask  for  my  child  what  I've  found  for  her, 
a  brave  and  honest  man  to  love  and  cherish  her, 
and  may  God  bless  you  both." 

Where  are  Frank's  resolutions  ?  They  are 
fading  fast,  for  he  is  human.  All  stern  resolve 
is  melting  away  in  the  light  of  Jessie's  smile,  in 
the  love  which  is  shining  in  her  eyes,  and  as  he 
holds  her  hands  in  his,  a  hope,  which  is  almost  a 
prayer,  rises  in  his  heart,  that  association  with 
one  so  gentle  and  so  good  may  make  him  at  length 
worthy  of  her. 

Christmas  morning  has  dawned,  bright,  clear 
and  cold,  and  cheerful  hearts  and  merry  faces  are 
assembled  round  Mrs.  Lindsay's  breakfast  table  ; 
she  does  see  both  her  children  happy ;  she  has 
been  patient  and  she  is  rewarded.  They  are  all, 
of  course  including  Ernest  Carrington,  to  dine  at 
Mr.  Havendon's,  and  wherever  Christmas  that 
day  was  kept,  true  genuine  happiness  could  not 
have  been  greater  than  amongst  that  party. 
After  dinner  Mr.  Havendon  requested  permission 


64  THE   LINING. 

to  give  a  toast,  which  having  been  accorded,  he 
rose  and  proposed  the  health  of  a  Little  Bird, 
who  in  whispering  to  him  a  secret,  had  given  him 
the  gratification  of  making  two  people  very  happy ; 
and  he  thought  it  only  fair  to  wish  it  happy  in 
return,  with  a  snug  nest  and  a  kind  mate. 

The  toast  was  drunk  with  looks  of  wonderment 
by  all  save  Jessie  and  Annie,  who  seemed  to  be 
in  the  secret,  and  the  curiosity  of  men  will  rank 
as  high  as  women's  when  it  is  a  fact  on  record, 
that  Mr.  Frank  Lindsay  never  rested  till  he  had 
coaxed  the  secret  from  Jessie,  and  learnt  that 
Annie,  his  cousin,  was  the  kind  little  bird,  whose 
whisperings  had  secured  him  his  bride. 

Annie  has  owed  a  long  debt  of  gratitude  to 
her  Aunt,  her  second  mother,  who,  as  she  clasps  , 
her  to  her  heart  and  kisses  and  blesses  her  for 
her  goodness  to  her  son,  tells  her  she  is  more  than 
repaid. 

Yes,  Mrs.  Lindsay  could  appreciate  what 
Annie  had  done,  and  yet  not  fully,  for  she  did 
not  know  what  it  had  cost  her,  thus  to  put  an  irrev- 
ocable barrier  to  her  own  happiness  by  securing 


THE    LINING.  65 

Frank's.  She  did  not  know  how  Annie  had 
struggled  with  her  own  selfish  feelings,  and  how 
the  noble  part  of  her  love  had  triumphed,  and  she 
had  determined  to  make  him,  at  least,  happy. 
ISTo  !  no  one  knew  all  this,  but  He  to  whom  the 
secrets  of  all  hearts  are  known.  But  the  know- 
ledge that  the  example  of  Ernest  Carrington,  his 
goodness,  his  zeal,  his  energy,  had  first  stimulated 
Annie  to  exertion,  first  induced  her  to  strive 
against  the  indulgence  of  her  own  selfish  feelings, 
and  taught  her  that  the  safe  way  to  secure  her 
own  happiness  was  to  endeavor  to  secure  that  of-, 
others,  made  her  love  and  respect  him  more  deep- 
ly, and  give  her  hand  to  him,  with  a  clear  honest 
glance  of  trust  in  her  blue  eyes,  which  told  of  per- 
fect confidence  in  his  power  to  make  her  also  happy. 
1  The  early  spring  was  fixed  for  the  marriage, 
and  it  was  agreed  that  the  two  girls  should  be 
married  on  the  same  day,  for  Mr.  Havendon  said, 
February  was  the  right  time  for  his  Little  Bird  to 
have  a  mate,  and  by  that  name  he  never  ceased 
to  call  her.  The  weeks  flew  swiftly  past  to  the 
happy  lovers,  and  the  end  of  February  saw  two 
6* 


66  THE   LINING. 

fair  young  brides  standing  by  the  altar  in  the  village 
Church  of  Allerton.  Mr.  Havendon  had  doubled 
Frank's  salary,  and  given  each  bride  a  handsome 
wedding  present,  and  it  was  a  sight  to  see  his 
rosy,  happy,  proud  face,  as  he  stood  by  his  daugh- 
ter's side  and  placed  her  hand  in  Frank  Lind- 
say's ;  such  a  contrast  in  its  rude  health  to  the 
pale  delicate  mother,  who  with  equal  but  much 
calmer  joy  stood  there  beside  him. 

She  had  written,  when  she  knew  of  Annie's 
engagement,  to  Mr.  Lindsay,  and  again  when 
the  marriage  day  was  fixed,  but  she  had  had  no 
answer,  save  a  few  lines  to  say  he  had  no  objec- 
tion, but  that  he  had  no  time  to  come  down ;  and 
it  was  with  something  of  pain  that  she  gazed  on 
pretty  blushing  Annie,  neglected  so  entirely  by 
her  father  at  this  momentous  period  of  her  life. 

But  Grace  !  who  shall  paint  Grace's  joy  as  she 
dressed  for  her  bridal  the  darling,  whose  first 
wailing  cry  she  had  heard,  whose  helpless  years 
of  infancy  she  had  tended  so  fondly,  whose  ripen- 
ing years  she  had  watched  so  proudly. 

"  Well,  dear,"  she  said,  as  she  fastened  her 


THE  LINING. 


67 


dress,  "  I'm  christening  your  pretty  gown  with 
my  tears,  old  fool  that  I  am  ;  I  can  scarce  see 
for  them,  I'd  better  wait,  may  be  they'll  spoil  it." 

"  No,  no,  Grace,  dear,"  answered  Annie, 
"they  won't  spoil  it  —  you  are  determined  I 
shall  have  some  pearls  on  my  wedding  dress, 
that's  all ;  and  such  pearls,"  she  continued,  fling- 
ing her  arms  round  her  nurse's  neck,  "  are  far 
more  precious  to  me,  than  any  that  money  could 
buy  me,  dear,  dear  Grace." 

The  wedding  is  over,  the  solemn  words  are 
spoken,  the  crowd  has  dispersed,  and  the  bridal 
party  have  returned  home,  —  they  have  all  agreed 
there  should  be  no  company,  no  expense  at  home, 
but  that  a  dinner  should  be  given  to  the  poor  of 
the  two  villages  instead,  so  their  own  quiet  break- 
fast is  soon  finished  and  the  brides  are  gone. 

For  miles  might  the  shouts  be  heard  which 
rent  the  air  as  the  carriages  passed,  the  sonorous 
tone  of  youth,  the  trembling  tone  of  age,  and  the 
shrill  notes  of. childish  voices,  all  mingled  in  that 
heartfelt  cheer ;  and  lingered  long  in  the  memory 
of  those  whom  it  sent  on  their  way  rejoicing. 


68  THE   LINING. 

Having  married  my  Hero  and  Heroine,  and 
given  a  fair  promise  that  they  shall  be  happy 
ever  after,  what  more  have  I  to  add  ?  But 
little  ;  —  simply  to  assure  you  that  in  their  hap- 
piness Ernest  and  Annie  did  not  forget  their 
task,  but  continued,  with  unabated  zeal,  the  work 
of  reformation  in  Siclemoor.  I  will  not  tell  you 
that  a  few  months  sufficed  to  make  it  a  Paradise 
on  earth,  because  that  would  make  this  a  Fairy 
tale,  which  it  has  never  pretended  to  be ;  the 
task  was  a  long  one,  to  render  the  place  even 
respectable  ;  but  it  was  quite  enough  to  cheer 
them  in  their  labor,  to  see  one  or  two  cottages 
clean  and  decent,  and  know  their  inhabitants  had 
changed  their  dissolute  life  for  one  at  least  of 
industry ;  quite  enough  to  see  a  few  children 
come  regularly  to  school,  a  few  families  regularly 
to  Church,  and  so  they  still  went  on  working  and 
waiting ;  and  this  is  the  one  lesson  we  have  to 
learn  here,  to  labor  and  to  wait,  to  work  diligent- 
ly, untiringly  in  the  vineyard,  and  prove  our- 
selves "  worthy  of  our  hire." 

There  may  not  be  a  Sidemoor  near  us,   but 


THE   LINING.  69 

there  is  work  for  us  to  do  fitted  to  our  powers, 
if  we  would  but  seek  for  it ;  it  may  be  very 
humble,  very  slight  to  what  others  may  be  called 
on  to  do,  but  if  we  do  it  diligently,  our  pay  will 
be  the  same  as  theirs. 

The  lesson  which  had  made  so  deep  an  impres- 
sion on  Frank  he  never  forgot ;  the  ghastly  figure 
in  that  pale  moonlight  was  ever  present  to  him 
when  his  temper  was  about  to  rise,  and  it  calmed 
him  in  a  moment.  This  with  the  example  of  his 
pure  and  inestimable  wife,  made  him  at  length  as 
he  had  hoped  and  prayed,  worthy  of  her ;  and 
witnessing  the  goodness  and  prosperity  of  those 
she  loved  best  on  earth,  Mrs.  Lindsay  was  truly 
happy,  and  it  was  no  slight  thing  for  them  to 
feel  that  they  had  thus  gladdened  the  evening 
of  one,  who  had  indeed  borne  the  "  burden  and 
heat  of  the  day." 

Annie  now  fully  understood  the  meaning  and 
force  of  Grace's  proverb ;  one  we  should  all  do 
well  to  study  and  believe.  On  all  of  us  at  some 
moment  of  our  lives  there  has  rested  and  there 
will  rest  it  may  be  again,  a  heavy  Clcud,  but 


70  THE   LINING. 

gazing  on  it  with  the  eyes  of  faith  and  trust,  we 
shall  see  through  its  darkness  only  the  Silver 
Lining.  Trials  are  but  blessings  in  disguise  ; 
each  cloud  which  shadows  our  life  comes  charged 
with  some  good  ;  if  we  would  only  look  at  it 
without  shrinking,  calmly  and  steadily,  we  should 
pierce  its  darkness,  and  see  the  light  behind,  we 
should  recognize  some  warning  or  acknowledge 
some  chastening  which  makes  us  more  the  children 
of  our  Father,  and  speaks  to  us  of  His  love.  It 
may  be  that  in  a  gay  and  prosperous  life  here  we 
are  forgetting  another ;  so  dazzled  are  our  eyes 
by  this  world's  brightness,  we  need  the  shadow- 
ing of  the  Cloud  to  speak  to  us  of  that  other ; 
it  is  the  Cloud  that  is  leading  us  through  the 
wilderness  of  life  to  the  Land  of  Promise ;  how 
then  can  we  fail  to  acknowledge  its  use,  or  be  so 
blind  that  we  cannot  see  its  light.  Pursuing  our 
journey  with  patience,  running  cheerfully  the 
race  that  is  set  before  us,  we  shall  find  that  out 
of  evil  cometh  good,  and  that  the  eye  of  Faith  can 
see  through  all  Clouds  their  Silver  Lining. 


List  of  Works  Published  by 
JAMES     MUNROE     AND     COMPANY, 

BOSTON   AND   CAMBRIDGE. 

The  following  are  by  the  author  of  "  A  Trap  to 
Catch  a  Sunbeam." 

1.  The  House  on  the  Rock,  with  Frontispiece. 

2.  The  Dream  Chintz,  a  Tale  of  Fairy  Agency. 

3.  Old  Jolliffe,  Not  a  Goblin  Story ;    By  the 

Spirit  of  a  Little  Bell  awakened  by  the  Chimes. 

4.  The  Sequel  of  Old  Jolliffe,  written  in  the 

same  spirit,  by  the  same  spirit. 

5.  "  Only,"  a  Tale  for  Young  and  Old.    8th  Ed. 

6.  A  Merry  Christmas.     4th  Ed.,  price  12  cts. 

7.  A  Trap  to  Catch  a  Sunbeam.     25th  Edition. 

8.  The  Cloud  with  The  Silver  Lining. 

Cloth,  stamped,  25  cts.  per  volume. 


POPULAR  BOOKS  BY  MISS  PLANCHE. 


A  TRAP  TO  CATCH  A  SUNBEAM. 

"  The  title  is  of  inviting  promise,  and  the  fulfilment  is 
fully  equal  to  the  expectation  created.  The  plan  of  this 
little  volume  is  somewhat  similar  to  that  of  Mr.  Dickens's 
Christmas  Stories.  We  assure  the  reader,  if  he  will  purchase 
the  'Trap'  he  will  catch  a  'Sunbeam.'" — N.    Y.  paper 

"  Whoever  may  be  the  author  of  the  '  Trap  to  Catch  a 
Sunbeam,"1  it  ought  to  be  distributed  by  thousands  by  such 
influential  persons  as  are  desirous  to  preserve  the  souls  and 
bodies  of  the  poor." — London  paper. 


"ONLY." 

The  moral  of  the  story  is  the  danger  of  temptations, 
which  are  thought  to  be  too  small  —  "only  a  shilling," 
"  only  for  once,"  &c. 

"  '  Only'  is  an  uncommonly  pleasant  story,  with  an  ex- 
cellent moral  forcibly  illustrated." — Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 


OLD      JOLLIFFE; 

NOT  A  GOBLIN  STORY, 

BT  THE  SPIRIT   OF  A  LITTLE  BELL,  AWAKENED  BY  "  THE  CHIMES.' 


"THE  SEQUEL  TO  OLD  JOLLIFEE:" 

"  Old  Jolliffe "  is  not  a  mere  talker;  he  acts  up  to  his 
philosophy,  as  those  who  read  the  books  may  see.  They 
well  deserve  the  pains,  being  short,  fanciful,  unaffected,  and 
exquisitely  written;  moreover  the  motto  is  "  cheer  up  and 
despond  not,"  which  entitles  them  to  a  place  equally  in  the 
sumptuous  library  of  the  rich,  and  the  plain  shelf  of  the 
poor  man  who  reads,  and  reads  with  the  intent  of  nourish- 
ing his  mind  with  the  dictates  of  truth  and  blessings  of 
religion. 


A  MERRY  CHRISTMAS. 

One  good  argument  briefly  and  pleasantly  presented  has 
more  weight  than  a  folio  of  ill  digested  verbosity,  and 
therein  lies  the  secret  of  the  success  which  has  attended 
the  volumes  of  Miss  Planche\  The  present  one  shows  how 
incompatible  is  selfishness  with  the  enjoyment  of  a  Merry 
Christmas,  and  that  he  who?  would  be  happy  himself  must 
contribute  to  the  happiness  of  others. — New  York  paper. 


THE    DEEAM    CHINTZ. 

One  of  the  best,  if  not  the  very  best,  of  the  series  of 
stories  by  Miss  Planche. 


THE  HOUSE  ON  THE  EOCK. 

Lovers  of  exquisite  stories,  of  which  we  know  there  are 
scores  among  our  readers,  doubtless  remember  "  The  Dream 
Chintz,"  "  Trap  to  Catch  a  Sunbeam,"  "  Only,"  &c.  These 
narratives  are  unique,  delicate  in  conception,  graceful  and 
winsome  in  execution,  and  of  high  moral  significance.  It 
is  therefore  enough  to  say  of  the  present  volume,  that  it  is  by 
the  same  author,  equally  felicitous  in  its  way. — Home  Journal. 


< 

I 


i 


' '  v  J^H 


m 


1     . y  > 


;•' 


V 


,^.;»  VV 


